


Prisoners

by iwillrunforever



Category: DCU, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Arkham, Criminal stuff, F/M, Violence, usual gothamness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22944877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillrunforever/pseuds/iwillrunforever
Summary: Friends in Arkham mean trouble. But trouble can be fun.
Relationships: Jervis Tetch/Reader
Kudos: 28





	Prisoners

Good ol’ Arkham Asylum. Home sweet home to you. Just without the “home”, or the “sweet”. You’d been here three months now, but today was your first day out of solitary. Well, technically you’d been in with the General Population for a week when you arrived, but the director didn’t take kindly to you trying to gouge out the eyes of your fellow inmates. They didn’t seem to agree that it was a sufficient punishment for them staring at you. _Creeps._

Now here you were, back in relative freedom, standing at the gates to hell. Or the common room. Same thing. All eyes were on you as you took your time walking around the periphery of the room to sit at an empty table. When you looked around you caught sight of everyone pointedly looking away from you; it would seem you had a reputation. You smiled to yourself, tracing the surface of the table with a finger, drawing meaningless patterns. You were happy like that, unthinking, uncaring, just drawing until you felt some disturbance. Eyes. On you. You looked up and immediately found the culprit. A strange man with a top hat made from newspapers. Now, Arkham was filled with weirdos and crazies, but for some reason, he stood out. There was just something about him. You narrowed your eyes, daring him to come over and speak to you. And he did. Standing up and weaving his way through the tables to sit across from you.  
“What?” He had about thirty seconds before you lost interest. You hoped he would use them wisely.  
“Who is this face that I now see? This person appears new to me.” Rhyming. Fucking rhyming. Not the strangest thing but it would definitely infuriate you sooner rather than later.  
“(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Not so much new as hidden away for a while. But I’m back.” You saw no reason to end the conversation yet. Fear is all well and good, but having no one to talk to would get old soon, and he was better than nothing. “And you are?”  
“Jervis Tetch is my name. And may I enquire, what is your game?”  
“Look, is the rhyming permanent?” You had to know now before you got any deeper into this. He leaned back, looking slightly dismayed.  
“Not at all. I just enjoy it.” You smiled a little, and he copied you – when he wasn’t rhyming, he could almost be charming. Now that you could focus on him more, you looked him over. He had dark hair that hung in waves to his shoulders and a slight goatee. And his eyes… Just brown, simple, boring brown, but there was something about them, an intensity, a chaos, that drew you in.   
“Somehow not the weirdest quirk in here,” You sighed, leaning onto the table and looking away for a brief second, not wanting to lose your awareness of who was around you. When you looked back he was an inch from your face. You jumped away and he laughed, a joyous laugh that was somehow infectious despite the fact that it was aimed at you. “Look, rules here: don’t bother asking me about my past – I don’t wanna talk about it. And I’ll do the same with you. We’re all just crazies in here, the specifics don’t matter. And if we’re friends, we help each other? Alright?” He nods, smiling unabashedly at you. “Alright. Now, I’m tired, so shush.” You picked up a newspaper that had been left on the table and started to read. Meanwhile, Jervis just kept watching.

*

It was late – maybe one in the morning, but you couldn’t be sure. Regardless, the asylum was deadly silent. Quiet enough for the clicking of the lock in your cell door to sound deafening. It seemed to echo around the cell, though logically you knew it was barely audible. The creak of hinges was even worse as you slipped through the door. You were going stir-crazy in there; a walk would help. Distract you from the constant turning of your brain. The floor was cold under your bare feet as you padded silently past the countless rows of cells, through the empty corridors. Not a guard in sight.

It wasn’t long before you heard yelling. Not an unusual occurrence in Arkham, but this wasn’t the ordinary mindless screams of the insane; rather it was shouting. Four voices – all men. Always the men causing trouble. Not to generalise or anything.

You followed the sounds, curious. They lead you to a dead-end where your new friend Jervis was crouched on the floor in front of three men – you recognised their faces, but couldn’t find any names. Jervis’s face and hands were bloody, bruised, battered. _Time to join in the fun._  
“Heya boys!” You called out, drawing their attention. Jervis giggled in glee at the sight of you. He didn’t seem to notice how injured he was. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “I really hope you have a good reason for this. Cause otherwise I might have to actually do something about it, and that would be a lot of effort.”  
“Try worrying about yourself, (Y/L/N). Don’t want you getting in any more trouble,” The tallest of the men spat at you.  
“How nice of you to be concerned about my wellbeing,” You mocked, “And how nice to know my reputation still stands.”   
“You know what would be nice?” This was said by a squirrelly man who was wringing his hands. “If you would back off and mind your own business.”  
You sighed, resting a hand on your hip and watching the group with your head tilted. You could feel Jervis watching you. “You see, boys, I really can’t do that. Cause that’s my friend you’ve got there.”  
“Him? Your friend?” The tall man laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Looks like solitary made you soft, (Y/L/N).”

That was the last straw. You chuckled, smiling sweetly, and taking a few gentle steps towards. “I suppose it might have. But I think the more likely option is,” You stopped in front of him and raised yourself on the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear, “It just pissed me off.”

You let the shiv hidden inside your sleeve slide out and slashed it across his throat. A clean, sharp cut. He didn’t even have time to scream, barely gurgling as blood flowed from his neck and lips, as he choked on his own life force. The other two jumped forward, not smart enough or sane enough to run. You got one in the side with the tiny blade but the other grabbed your arms. You hoped Jervis had gotten out of the way. His grip was tight on you, the pain making your hand open. When he realised the blade was gone he let go and moved to grab your throat. You took the opportunity to wrench yourself away, kicking his legs out from under him. You straddled his waist and grabbed his head. The terror on his face gave him away. You used all your strength to force his skull into the cold concrete again and again, spraying your face with blood and gore until he was dead. You could hear whimpering. The second guy, the one who you had spent the least time on, was clinging his side, clothes stained with blood, and struggling to crawl away one-handed. You tutted at him. It was easy to stand, cross to his side, picking your knife up on the way, and finish off the job. Surveying the scene, the three dead, you sighed at the mess. _Poor cleaners._  
“Jervis?” You called into the sudden silence.   
“I’m right here.” You turned and found him leaning against the wall, grinning again. “Seems to have been quite a bit of trouble, my dear.”  
“Not sure that counts as a rhyme,” You chuckled. He shrugged almost guiltily.  
“I tried.” He came closer to you, eyes tracing your body. You followed his gaze and smirked at the blood staining the white and black uniform. “We seem to make quite the team. Maybe, almost, a dream?”  
“Please stop rhyming.” You turned to leave, not wanting to get caught when the guards inevitably started doing their jobs, and Jervis followed. “And sure, if “team” means people beat you up and then I kill them.”  
“A good point. But I’m sure we could be rather devastating together.” You looked at him, looked at his excited smile.  
“We’ll see.”


End file.
